


Horizontal Bodies

by Machiavelien



Category: Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Being Walked In On, Blind Date, College, F/M, Identity Reveal, Loss of Virginity, Michelle Jones is Mary Jane, One Night Stands, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Spidey gang at ESU, Supportive May Parker (Spider-Man)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24590518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Machiavelien/pseuds/Machiavelien
Summary: After finally agreeing to Aunt May's set-up date with her friend's niece, Peter finds himself torn after a one night stand with his dream girl—if only he can find her again."But Peter wasn’t interested in someone like him. He's been himself for his whole life and the jury’s still out on whether that was ever a good call in the first place. He wants the opposite of himself—someone exciting and challenging and decisive, someone who makes him feel like all those things himself. He wants Michelle."
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 162
Kudos: 286
Collections: Spideychelle Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted a comic book Spidey world with MCU versions of the characters, especially with MJ as MJ, and a bunch of identity porn shenanigans.
> 
> I also misread the Spideychelle Week prompt as "Meeting after highschool" (instead of meeting AGAIN after highschool oops) so... Enjoy!

_I was alive with you_  
_But you brought in the cold_  
_Was I being lied to?_  
_Wish I never met you_  
_Startin' to regret you_

[Cannons, 'Fire for You'](https://open.spotify.com/track/4oFoVvoULH8EsKQjtlI4um?si=tSJgxlQxQqe2aLKxjcI4ew)

Michelle is trying to get dressed and quietly slip out of the dorm room when her one-night stand murmurs, "You didn't wake me up." His voice is still thick with sleep.

She turns around slowly, trying not to blush. But then she remembers she has no reason to feel embarrassed, so she tilts her head up defiantly. "No, I didn't."

"It's okay. I just wanted to watch that butt go one more time," he grins, rubbing his eyes.

"Dork," she retorts.

He just shrugs good naturedly and stretches out on the bed, folding his arms behind his head, biceps flexed. His smile looks confident and easygoing, but also earnest and a little wistful as he looks at her.

Michelle can't help it. She crawls back into bed with him.

She ends up with her bare back pressed against his chest, scrolling through her phone while her date sleepily nuzzles her.

He asks her what she thinks of New York's masked vigilante when Spider-Man shows up on her feed.

"I used to have a crush on him in highschool, when he first showed up around Queens."

"Used to?"

"I eventually decided he was too much of a goody two shoes for me," Michelle replies, putting her phone down and sliding a hand beneath the sheets.

He laughs, then groans when her palm slides from his thigh down further.

"Besides, I don't think a boy scout like Spidey would let me do this," she smirks, rubbing him beneath the sheets.

"I dunno," he says breathlessly. “I don't think anyone with a pulse could ever turn you down.”

"Mmm... you saying I've got a shot with the webhead?"

"Maybe," her hookup says cryptically. "Why? Are you interested?"

Michelle purses her lips together. Her breakup was still fresh on her mind last night, an irritating wound that had mostly scabbed over, but still ugly and itchy, no matter how much she tried to ignore it.

So when she literally stumbled into her soon-to-be one-night-stand at the party, Michelle made up her mind to focus on herself and what she wanted, at least for the night.

She told him he could come along for the ride if he wanted. He said he did.

Besides, he was pretty cute in a nerdy-looking way, with big brown eyes and a sincere smile—and Michelle was sick of liars. His broad shoulders and toned arms were nice, too.

She can't even remember what they talked about all night. She just liked that he was different from her usual type of opinionated English or poli-sci majors who enjoyed arguing more than they cared about what she had to say.

Her only clear memory of the party was when she started to sober up towards the end of the night. They had somehow gone from talking about quasars to making out while Michelle had him pinned to a wall.

She isn't sure how they got to his place afterwards, though she has hazy memories of lying in his bed, laughing, and then his face looking up at her from between her legs.

“Oh my god,” she mutters to herself, throwing her head back and covering her face.

Michelle still can't believe she lost her virginity to a one-night stand, and, even more mortifyingly, that she was too drunk to even remember any of it.

“What’s wrong?” Her hookup sits up on his side, giving her a full view of his chiseled chest and abs.

She shakes her head, bringing her hands back down, and looks up at his warm brown eyes. "Nothing's wrong, tiger."

He chuckles, nervously running his fingers through his hair. "Okay, good. I, uh, hope you had fun. I definitely did. Have fun, that is."

She did. More fun than she's had in a while, actually. Maybe more than she ever had with her ex-boyfriend, even from the few bits of last night she can recollect.

As soon as they began officially dating, Michelle's ex began pushing her to have sex with him, which only made her more stubborn and resentful about it. He finally broke up with her after a semester when he failed to wear her down. Which is whatever. Good riddance.

It probably isn't healthy or mature to react to a bad break-up with revenge sex, but when she looks at the guy in bed with her and his earnest little smile, Michelle can't seem to get herself to feel bad about it.

"I did have fun," she says honestly, glancing up to catch his eye.

"If you're interested in an encore…" He raises his eyebrows at her suggestively.

She fights back a smile and schools her face back to neutral. "I'm really not a random hook-up person. Last night was a drunken exception."

"Me neither," he admits. "So how about you let me take you out to dinner? Pizza?"

"Better be Joe's Pizza.”

“What? That is such a tourist spot! Eddie's Pizza all the way," he says. She likes the way the corner of his eyes crinkle up when he’s laughing. “We gotta work on your New Yorker cred.”

“Who’re you calling a tourist?" says Michelle, looking around the floor for her underwear. “I grew up in Queens, buster. Only moved away when I got to highschool.”

“Really? I grew up in Queens, too! Which neighborhood?”

They reminisce and quickly figure out they grew up on almost the same street. Peter tells her about how Delmar's is still around, but the Greek diner across from the deli is now a bank.

“Another thing I love about Eddie’s,” he says, motioning for Michelle to come in close for a secret. “There’s a rumor that if you ask for the Spidey Special, you'll get a deluxe, large, handmade thin crust with extra pepperoni.”

“Now who’s got a crush on Spider-Man?”

"What can I say? He's a likeable guy," her hookup shrugs, and she can imagine herself goofing around and talking to him like this all the time. That's not good.

“Look, I had fun last night," says Michelle, sitting up. "But I just got out of a relationship, and I’m not really looking for something more than this.” The words sound rehearsed, even to her.

“And what is this exactly?” he asks, voice low in his throat.

"Some fun," she says over her shoulder as she loops her bra back on.

"Well, I really like you," he says. "I'm going to give you my number, and you can call me if you want. But if you never want to see me again, that's okay, too."

He seems like he actually means it, so she hands him her phone, and watches him put his number in while she tugs her dress from last night back on.

"Well, see you around, maybe," Michelle says, squinting at his number on her phone and pretending she already forgot his name, " _Peter_."

"Bye, Michelle."

===

Peter waits all week for Michelle to text or call him, but she doesn’t.

Knowing nothing about her except for her first name and her opinions on the electoral college, he can’t find her on social media so he keeps an eye out for her on campus, in class and lecture halls—and maybe while he's out patrolling—hoping to catch sight of her curly brown hair or that intimidating glare of hers.

But he gets disappointed each time he thinks he's found her. With each day that passes without seeing her, he loses a little more hope that she'll call.

When it came to romance, Peter could never quite connect; there was always some sort of misalignment. It'd be easy to blame it on his secret life as a crime-fighting masked vigilante, but deep in his gut he's always harbored a fear that it wasn't Spider-Man that was broken, but Peter Parker.

All his life he’s had rotten luck with girls—and guys, based on that one time he tried. He could never give them what they wanted, and they always expected him to be someone he wasn’t.

But it was different with Michelle. She was so easy to talk to, and she didn't want anything from him except him as he was—a nerdy freshman who apparently can't stop talking about particle physics when he's trashed, but hopefully still a passable kisser.

Michelle, however, was something else altogether. Not only was she captain of her highschool’s Academic Decathlon team and at ESU on an academic scholarship like Peter was, she’s read more books than he's probably even heard of, had a wild conspiracy theory or creepy fact for everything they talked about all night, and was really, really pretty.

Flash thinks he's lying and making it all up, and Harry won't stop gloating about being the one who made Peter go to the party in the first place. Gwen just pats him on the back and tells him to be patient.

Peter sighs. His love life is such a joke that even his aunt has been trying to set him up.

“May, I’m twenty four! I don’t need you setting up playdates for me.”

“First off, you’re nineteen, Mister Blipster,” May had said, pointing at Peter. “And this isn’t a playdate. Anna’s niece is also a freshman at ESU, so I thought it’d be nice if you showed her around New York, maybe become friends. It'd be like if your kid and Gwen's kid were friends."

Peter has dodged May’s previous attempts to get him to meet her friend's niece, assuming they were thinly veiled attempts at a blind date. But Anna was May's best friend from high school, like him and Gwen, helping each other survive through Midtown High.

So Peter eventually relented and agreed to meet Anna's niece "MJ" for lunch at the Silver Spoon Cafe, one of his usual spots near campus for affordable greasy food.

But then he met Michelle at that party Harry dragged him to, and now he can't stop thinking about her when he's supposed to be meeting up with Aunt May's set up, who she insists is "a sweet girl"—quiet, serious, and, like Peter, bookish and smart.

"Yawn!" says Harry.

"Sounds just like Penis' type," adds Flash, hitting a little too close to the mark. "I bet she’s got a ‘nice personality,' too.”

But Peter wasn’t interested in someone like him. He's been himself for his whole life and the jury’s still out on whether that was ever a good call. He wants the opposite of himself—someone exciting and challenging and decisive, someone who makes him feel like all those things himself. He wants Michelle.

“For the love of god, please shut up, Parker!” says Harry. “You've been going on and on about this girl for days!”

“We all know this chick isn’t real. Who the hell would wanna hook up with you? Especially if she’s as hot as you claim,” scoffs Flash.

“Shut up, you’re just jealous that Peter hasn’t been dumped for sending back a dinner entree _four_ times,” says Gwen, throwing a fry at Flash.

“Dude! I know fresh branzino, alright? You can get really sick if it’s not prepared properly—”

“She sounds great, Pete,” says Gwen, ignoring Flash.

"Thanks. I just wish I didn't have this lunch thing May wants me to do."

"Boo hoo, Peter has to choose between two girls, life's so hard," says Harry, clapping Peter on the arm.

Peter's shoulders slump as he slouches his seat. "More like I'm trying to find someone that I'm starting to think is too perfect to be real, and I don't think the blind date's going to like me much."

"What makes you think that? Because you're pining and obsessing over another girl while on a date with her?" asks Gwen, raising an eyebrow at him.

Not waiting for a response, she puts her headphones back on while the boys bicker and Peter frets.

“I just really like Michelle…" Peter sighs. "She’s awesome, she’s super funny in a kind of dark way, and sometimes I'd catch her looking at me throughout the night and it’d feel like I stood up way too fast—”

When the bell above the door to the cafe chimes, the server by their table stops what he's doing and Flash sits up in his seat and says, “Whoa, who is that?”

“Where’d she come from?” asks Harry, looking behind Peter.

Peter turns around and freezes.

It’s her. Michelle.

With her tall, quiet, intimidating presence, she’s as beautiful and cool as he remembers. Her long curly hair is tied back and she's wearing a loose army surplus shirt tucked into the waist of black jeans.

She's real and she's right in front of him.

Peter checks his watch. Of course, he finally sees Michelle again just as he’s supposed to meet a blind date that his aunt set up. That classic Parker luck strikes again, he sighs.

Michelle turns her head and narrows her eyes straight at him. The sharp probing look sends a shiver down his spine, and he feels like she’s seeing right through him. "Hey, Peter."

Even though his mind is frozen mush, his feet manage to get him up and across the cafe towards her.

"Michelle! Hi. Cool seeing you here," he nods at her, then bites the inside of his cheek. Why is he so embarrassing?

"Yeah. Real cool."

She holds his gaze, face unreadable, and his mind goes blank when his eyes fall to her lips. Instead of the dark lipstick she wore at the party, her lips are smooth and bare, no stains to leave on his shirt... Peter's so dazed trying to memorize the warm natural pinkish color of her lips that he doesn't sense the balled-up wrapper Harry throws at his head until it actually hits him.

“Sorry!" exclaims Peter, picking up the projectile and scratching the back of his head. "Let me introduce you to the gang.”

“I can tell she’s been bustin’ to meet the Flash,” says Flash, standing up.

Michelle shoots him a withering glare, sending Flash back to a seat on his butt.

“She’s quite the girl, Petey. Where have you been keeping her?” Gwen asks after introducing herself, eying Michelle up and down.

“Yeah, imagine sly Peter keeping her all to himself,” Harry winks. “He definitely hasn’t been talking our ears off about you at all, _Michelle_.”

"Wait, what about your date, Parker? Aren't you supposed to be meeting her right now?" Flash interrupts, ignoring the irritated look Peter throws at him. "Or are you going to stand her up?"

“I’m actually supposed to be meeting my aunt’s friend’s niece,” Peter admits when he turns back to Michelle. “But it’s not like a date or anything,” he adds quickly. "Just a favor for my aunt."

“Why would I care if you’ve got a date, Peter?” Michelle asks evenly, crossing her arms.

His stomach drops at that, but then her lips twitch as she's fighting a smile, and he lets out a strained little chuckle.

She holds out her hand stiffly. " 'sup. Michelle Jones. Nice to meet you, Peter Parker."

“Michelle Jones…." Realization dawns on him, and Peter looks at her with wide eyes. "MJ? You’re May’s MJ?!”

"My friends call me MJ," she shrugs. "So are we doing this lunch not-date and New York City tour thing or what?"

"Yes! Definitely. Wait, what do you mean not-date?"

Michelle—MJ—lets her pursed lips slowly curve into a slow smile. "You said this was just a favor for your aunt, right?"

Her attention sends a warm rush through his chest, and he tells himself to be bold, like her.

"You're right. It's not a date unless there's good pizza," Peter quips back, his panic turning into excitement, "and unfortunately they don't serve pizza here. But Silver Spoon does a pretty mean knish, with extra apple sauce."

"Hmm. Alright, I'll allow it," MJ replies, following him to a separate table for two away from his friends' earshot. "Buy me a cup of tea, too, will you Petey?”

"Tea? You're an extravagant date, Michelle Jones," says Peter, sitting down. His heart is racing and his head feels lighter than he's ever felt before, like he's about to float into the sky.

"Face it, tiger," she smirks, opening up the plastic menu. "You just hit the jackpot."

===

“I don’t get it,” says Flash from across the cafe.

“What’s there to get?” asks Harry.

“Parker knows her?”

“Looks that way, bro.”

“I don’t get it,” Flash repeats.

“Wake up, Flash,” says Gwen, checking her fingernails as the three of them strain to discreetly eavesdrop on their friend and his date. "What you don’t know about Peter Parker couldn’t fit a thimble."

“You know what? There’s only one answer. It’s a sorority initiation!” exclaims Flash, pointing in the air. “She’s gotta date the most nothing guy around, so she picked up Parker!”

“Nah, face it, man," says Harry, kicking his feet up on the chair Peter previously occupied. "Doesn’t look like anyone’s twisting that girl's arm unless she wants them to."


	2. Chapter 2

When she first got to ESU, MJ decided that she didn't want to be who she was in highschool anymore, or at least not who everyone thought she was—that strange know-it-all girl with a dark sense of humor and a knack for making people feel uncomfortable.

So when the friendly guy from her Comparative Lit section asked her out at the start of freshman year, it had seemed like the perfect opportunity for her to try being someone else for a change. Not that weird loner MJ, but Michelle, girlfriend of socially well-adjusted and charismatic student-athlete Brad Davis, who had friends and a normal sense of humor.

So she went to the parties with Brad, socialized with his friends, traded in her thrifted oversized bomber jackets and converse sneakers for short vintage dresses and motorcycle boots. It was good camouflage, with enough of the real Michelle still there to make it convincing.

None of it ended up mattering, though. People still gossiped and said things behind her back: that she was stuck up and high maintenance, a tease who wouldn't give it up to her boyfriend.

Every word stung, but she wouldn't let it show; Michelle learned long ago never to expose her feelings.

So she doesn't call Peter.

She considered it a few times, her thumb hovering over his name in her phone. But she'd exposed too much of herself to him already, in more ways than one, and she wasn't ready to deal with that yet; not to mention how mortified she still feels over being too drunk to remember having sex for the first time.

Instead, MJ tells her aunt that she'll finally go on that blind date she's been hounding her about since the start of the school year. It gives her another reason not to call Peter.

In fact, she might have actively been avoiding him after that night altogether, which ironically involved becoming hyper aware and observant of his habits and whereabouts.

MJ figures out that they're in the same physics lecture and computational stats section this semester and notes how he's perpetually late to class but seems to have no problem keeping up with the course material when called on.

She also observes that Peter likes to frequent the Coffee Bean in the mornings. So, since she already knows where his dorm is, she's been taking the long way to and from her classes to avoid 'the Peter Radius' that she's plotted over ESU's campus.

In the end, it turns out all her efforts were wasted, because when she walks into the greasy cafe to meet the blind date that Aunt Anna had set up, she finds one Peter _Parker_ sitting there with his friends.

Now he's sitting barely three feet across from her, face completely lit up from, she suspects, being in her company, and it's too much for her to wrap her head around. MJ is in the dead center of the Peter Radius and she has a feeling she doesn't want to leave.

Is she supposed to tell him she slept with him to get over a breakup and prove to herself that she's not the 'uptight bitch' that her ex accused her of being? Should she ask Peter how she rated, performance wise? Is that a thing?

She should probably ask him the one question that's been nagging her all week and making her wake up in the middle of the night, stressed and clammy.

“So, um, we did use a condom that night, right?” Michelle asks as casually she can manage.

Lowering his sandwich, Peter gives her a strange look. “Uh, no?”

Her blood runs cold. “What?” She looks around the cafe even though she's not looking for anything in particular, trying to ignore the panic rising in her chest.

Fuck. She’d better not have screwed up her life over a one-night stand. _Fuck_.

"Did we really not use anything?"

“Why would we…?” Peter blinks and furrows his brows in confusion. “MJ, we didn't have sex.”

She stills her anxious fidgeting. “Oh.”

That… kind of disappoints her?

“So what exactly did we do?” she asks, trying to eat her fries with a fork nonchalantly.

“Too much, if you were too drunk to remember,” Peter replies, frowning as he looks down at his plate. “We kissed, then we got naked and kissed some more... I went down on you, and then… you gave me a hand job.”

Michelle exhales with relief. "That's it?"

"What do you mean that's it? That's a lot!" Peter exclaims, looking up at her while still pink in the face.

She grins at him. She's going to love teasing this guy so much.

Wait, why does she think they'll hang out again?

"I just meant that I'm okay with the stuff we did. I'm glad we did it," Michelle mumbles, then smiles at him before stealing a bite of his Reuben sandwich. That makes Peter laugh, and his shoulders sag with relief.

"I just wish I remembered more of my first time getting head, though," she continues. "My ex said it reminded him of eating raw oysters, so I’d have to really make it up to him to try it, which didn’t seem worth it."

Peter makes a face. "That’s messed up. And it’s definitely not like that at all."

"What's it like then?" she asks, curious.

"Oh, uh, I don't know..." he ponders for a moment, his cheeks tinged pink and his ears turning bright red.

"Come on," she encourages, tapping his shoe with the toe of her boot. "Tell me."

Pete clears his throat and glances over his shoulder before saying, voice low, "You want me to tell you how you taste? Is that what you want?"

Michelle nods, holding onto the sliver of bravado left inside her. "Yes. Tell me."

He's shaking his leg beneath the table, a nervous tick that she mentally catalogs, and licks his lips nervously as he studies everything but her eyes. "Tell you how you... You know how canned peaches are all syrupy and sweet?"

She nods again, putting her hand over his knee under the table to still his shaking leg.

The corner of Peter's lips quirk up and he adds, "Gets all over, too. The best kind of mess."

His eyes dart back to hers, locking her gaze, and Michelle is hit with the memory of him holding her thighs apart, those brown eyes looking up at her as he licks, and she shivers. Oh.

“How’d you break your nose?” she asks, letting go of his knee and looking down at her own plate as she changes the subject.

“How did you know I broke my nose?” he asks, eyebrows raised. Peter is easily distracted, she notes to herself.

“It’s shifted out of its normal midline position,” says MJ, leaning across the table to inspect the bridge of his nose. "Contact sports or something?”

"Nah, no sports for me," says Peter, shaking his head a little wistfully. "I was an asthmatic kid growing up."

"Then what was it? Some sort of fight club?"

"Kinda, yeah. Guess you could call it that," he replies, fidgeting with his fork. He doesn't seem to want to talk about it, but it doesn't seem like a traumatic story either.

Cryptic. Michelle likes it.

"Alright, karate kid," she says, charitably changing the subject again, "where are you taking me on this grand New York tour of yours?"

===

Although Peter clearly hadn't planned ahead, MJ still enjoyed his improvised tour of the city, if for no other reason than his sheer enthusiasm and terrible jokes. She finds herself too busy trying to stifle her laughs into derisive snorts to feel self conscious or worry about impressing him, and the entire afternoon flies by.

After Peter shows her his favorite spots downtown, they grab dosas from a food truck in Washington Square Park and settle on a bench to enjoy their meal while a guy with a bunch of trained pigeons performs for the park crowd. When she takes a sip of the weird fruit soda she picked out and doesn't like it, Peter offers his root beer to trade.

Pointing at the fountain in the middle of the park, MJ tells him about the time she saw Spider-Man last fall. He defeated some guy in a Rhino suit by dunking him into the water and shocking him with electric webs, which fried the suit's circuits, leaving the supervillain useless and trapped in his own armor.

“Didn't realize you were still such a Spidey fan,” Peter teases.

"He pisses off the cops and right-wing pundits," Michelle explains without missing a beat. "He fights for the neighborhood instead of enforcing the authority of those in power. And his ass looks great in spandex."

That makes Peter laugh out loud, and Michelle is struck with an intense sense of satisfaction.

"When you put it that way, Spider-Man sounds pretty great. Maybe I should take a shot?" he says, grinning. "I'm pretty sure he's an equal opportunist."

"Then may the best man or woman win Spidey's heart," says Michelle, tapping her root beer against his soda can and taking a swig.

They wander from the East Village to the West Village the rest of afternoon until it’s almost dark, meandering without a destination in mind.

The top of their hands sometimes brushed each other's in passing, causing Michelle to jerk back each time, as if his touch could burn her. But the feeling lingers on her skin, and she can't imagine how she didn't explode from having Peter touch her all over that night.

Maybe I did, MJ muses to herself, followed by a strong desire to repeat their encounter, but properly this time so she can commit all the details to memory.

Their conversation and jokes quiet down with the setting sun, but through an unspoken agreement they take the long way back to campus, exchanging half smiles and side glances.

Part of her doesn’t want to say anything that might end their afternoon together, and another part is so nervous that she’ll finally say or do something embarrassing or off-putting, and that she should quit while she’s ahead. So she doesn’t say anything at all and just lets the silence between them hang until they come to a stop by the edge of campus.

The moment isn't awkward, but it feels charged, heavy with intent and hope, and Michelle opens her mouth to speak at the same time as Peter.

“Hey, so—”

“This was fun—”

She bites her bottom lip and he chuckles nervously.

“Sorry, I interrupted you—”

“No, you go—”

They stare at each other again, smiling awkwardly.

“Uh, look um,” Peter starts, looking down at his shoes, “I’m not ready for this day to be over yet, and I really want to see you again and take you somewhere nicer than the Silver Spoon—”

“Yes,” Michelle says before he can finish.

“Yes... like you want to go?”

“Yes,” she repeats with a nod, to get her point across.

“Awesome,” he says, smiling brightly. “Maybe dinner sometime next week? I still owe you pizza. We could go to that place on 4th street--”

“How about I see you there tomorrow,” she says, taking a deep breath. That came out flirty, right?

“Tomorrow’s good,” says Peter, his voice and smile softening. “It’s a date.”

===

To get out of meeting her aunt's friend's nephew, Michelle has faked headaches and last minute obligations—which got her through an entire semester, in fact. She hadn't told her aunt that she was already dating someone, so she kept finding excuses to avoid the transparent set-up.

That should have been a red flag about Brad in the first place, that deep in her gut Michelle didn't want to tell Aunt Anna about him. But now she can’t stop talking about Peter—everything reminds her of him or a story he told her, and she has to keep catching herself from mentioning him too often to her roommate, Betty, who humors her with friendly teasing.

Most of the friends MJ made during her first semester were really Brad's friends, so she doesn't talk to any of them anymore. But Betty was never a Brad fan to begin with, and they're both journalism majors, so spending more time with her has been a welcomed change.

MJ wears a dress she'd been saving, though she's not sure for what occasion, and with a nervous deep breath also wriggles into a matching bra and underwear set beneath. Just in case.

Then she's waiting for Peter at a corner table at the pizzeria. He's ten minutes late.

When he doesn't call or send any sort of text indicating that he'd be running late, MJ makes a mental note of his potential habitual tardiness and pushes away the intrusive thought that she's getting stood up.

Unless Peter only asked her out to be polite, and suggested vague future plans that weren't meant to be fulfilled? That is, until she pushed to meet tonight instead, like an overeager idiot. Was she still supposed to play that game and pretend to be less interested than she actually felt? She thought Peter would be different, though.

Now he's twenty minutes late. Michelle's on her second soda and has begun fending off other diners asking for her extra chair.

"It's taken," she says again, pointing daggers with her eyes. "So back off."

She has sent a handful of people scurrying, but the way they keep eying the empty chair makes her ears burn.

What if Peter's angry with her for not calling him when he first gave her his number, and is giving her a taste of her own medicine? That doesn't seem like him, but she doesn't really know him after all.

The pizzeria's door opens and Michelle looks up. She keeps her lips pursed in a tight line, trying not to appear too eager. But it's not Peter that just came in, only a group of ESU students—including her ex, Brad.

She doesn't look away quickly enough, and when he spots her, starts to come over to her table. Cursing under her breath, Michelle waits until the last possible second to acknowledge his presence, but he beats her to it.

“Heard you're giving it up easy now, MJ,” Brad announces loudly, hovering over her.

“What?”

“My boys saw you at SigEp crawling up on some guy the weekend after we broke up,” he says, nodding toward his friends as they take over a large booth.

“So?” She lets no emotion cross her face, but her hands are trembling on her lap under the table. She doesn’t owe anyone—least of all her asshole ex—an explanation for anything.

Brad scoffs at her in disgust. “So? Can't believe I wasted a semester on you when you didn't even put out, but then you spread it for some random guy?”

"Sorry I deprived you of the sex you feel you were entitled to," Michelle snaps, losing grip of her self-control. It was a bad break-up, which made it easy for her to get over it, but it also left a gross taste in her mouth.

"Nah, don't feel too bad for me," says Brad, shrugging, "I still got taken care of just fine. Plenty of other girls around eager to do what you wouldn't."

He catches her flinch and flashes that stupid plastic smile of his.

"Unsurprising," she deadpans, crossing her arms.

Even while they were dating she had vague suspicions that he was cheating on her, but the unexpected confirmation now blindsides her. She should be angrier, and she would be if she still cared about Brad at all, but she doesn’t and just wants him to go away. Time seems to crawl as she stares her ex down, but MJ is determined not to let him fluster her again.

"So, you here by yourself?” Brad asks, leaning closer. "Because you're looking kind of lonely, 'chelle."

"No," she says curtly, her face getting hot. “I’m waiting for someone.”

"A date?"

"None of your business."

"Well, some people aren't worth the wait," he shrugs, looking pointedly at her.

Fighting the urge to glance at the door for Peter, MJ narrows her eyes at Brad. "If you have something to say to me, then get it over with."

He rolls his eyes. "Look, MJ. I'm not here to judge your life choices," he says, voice dripping with condescension. "If you want to hook up with some random dude and fuck him at some trashy party, that's on you. I mean, even though it was barely two weeks after we broke up, and a pretty slutty way to try to make me jealous—"

"Not that it's any of your fucking business,” MJ replies, stifling her intense desire to sock him in the face, “but that's not what happened."

Brad scoffs and shakes his head. "My friends sent me photos, okay? You were basically screwing the guy in front of everyone at the party. How do you think that makes me look?"

MJ gives Brad a brittle, sarcastic smile instead. He's always had a talent for making other people feel like they’re letting him down, especially when he doesn't get what he thinks he deserves. "Again, not my problem, dude."

Dissatisfied with her lukewarm reaction, Brad pulls out his phone and sticks it in her face. "You might feel differently when your date sees this. If he ever shows up, that is."

Brad was always one to gloat, especially when he was convinced that he had something over her, whether it was from twisting her words or weaseling out of a fight, and she just wants to wipe that look of self-satisfaction off his face.

"Hey MJ, sorry I'm late!"

The familiar voice sends a warm feeling of relief through her. Peter's curling brown hair is windswept, and his clothes are rumpled as if he just changed in a rush, but he's here. His face is distraught, eyes shining remorsefully, and she forgives him instantly—but only inside her head.

"You're an hour late," MJ says instead.

Peter smiles sheepishly at her. "Yeah, I'm really sorry. Got caught up in something."

Before she can grill him further, Peter turns and extends a hand to Brad. "Hey, man. What's up? I'm Peter."

"You her new boyfriend or something?" Brad asks without introducing himself, his smug demeanor quickly turning into agitation.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess that you're the ex that’s definitely not still hung up on her," says Peter, his shit-eating grin unwavering. It makes MJ's chest tighten, though not in an unpleasant way.

Brad lets out a forced laugh. "Trust me, I'm over her. Though you should probably know what you're getting into, buddy."

"I think I'll be fine, but thanks, _bud_ ," says Peter, smiling tightly.

There's a wariness in his stance and tension in his shoulders as he positions himself between her and Brad. MJ wants to be annoyed and tell Peter that she isn't impressed with chest-thumping alpha male bullshit, but it's also kind of nice to have someone else on her side for once.

"Suit yourself," says Brad. "But I can't pretend I didn't see what I saw. I know you're trying to get with her, it's obvious. But I've got something you should really see."

MJ rolls her eyes. "You cannot show him that photo, Brad. Come on."

"I have to. He deserves the truth," her ex replies, waving his phone in the air.

What a pompous asshole. She should have trusted her gut when she first read his English papers last semester and really wants to kick herself for re-writing the worst parts of his essays.

Peter glances over to catch her eye and raises his eyebrows, silently checking in with her. MJ tilts her head in a half shrug, signalling him to go ahead with a sigh. The damage is already done; Peter now knows what a douche her ex is and is probably questioning her judgement altogether. That's what she would do.

"Classic MJ, huh?" says Brad, swiping through photos and a blurry video clip to show Peter. "All talk and no action the entire time we were together. Then I dump her and she goes and gives it up to the first guy she runs into."

"Oh wow, they're really going at it, huh?" says Peter, the corner of his lips twitching in amusement. "Though, it’s kinda weird that you're having your friends stalk your ex-girlfriend for you. Like, it's pretty invasive. Creepy even."

Scoffing, Brad shakes his head in disappointment. "I was just trying to help you out, Pete, before you waste too much time on her. But suit yourself. Enjoy her half-assed hand jobs," he says, deliberately knocking into Peter's shoulder as he turns to leave and rejoin his friends, ignoring MJ.

MJ scowls at his back. Brad's parting comment rings in her ears as an itchy heat rises up her neck.

"Charming guy," Peter mutters under his breath, sitting down beside MJ.

She only glances at him out of the corner of her eyes, hoping her embarrassed flush doesn't show. It looks like there's a bruise on his cheek that's facing away from her, but maybe it's just a trick of the light.

Peter tilts his head away when he sees her looking, busying himself with the menu and lifting it up in what he thinks is an inconspicuous manner.

"Wanna get the shroomtown pie?" he suggests, still holding the menu over his face. "It's got truffle oil, so you know it's fancy. Or we can just stick with a margherita pie. Both?"

"Sure, whatever."

Lowering his menu, Peter peeks over the top at her, wincing. "I'm really sorry I was late, MJ."

The bruise that she thought she saw on his face isn't there now, but she notices that he's missed a button on his shirt. Curious.

"It's fine," she replies. "A text would've been nice, but whatever." She wants to ask where he was and what held him up, but doesn't want to show that she cares too much. Because she doesn't.

"I know, you're right and I'm sorry," says Peter, and he is so sincere that if she hadn't already forgiven him, his baleful brown eyes would do her in now. "I'll get us extra desserts to make up for it, if you'll let me?" he adds hopefully. "They have those frozen sorbet in the fruit shell here, like in a giant half lemon or a coconut shell."

Peter doesn't actually tell her where he was or what he was doing, MJ notes. Which is fine, it's not like she's his girlfriend or anything, and the last thing he probably wants is a nag on top of a prude, she thinks bitterly.

"Sure."

"Really? Awesome. You won't regret it."

She wonders if Brad's words are still bouncing around in Peter's head like they are in hers. It's stupid to care about anything Brad says, or to care about what Peter thinks of her because of it, but she can't help it. For some reason Peter's opinion of her matters to her, which isn't the case with anyone except maybe her aunt, and she doesn't want him to think less of her, especially because of rumors and lies.

Except MJ can't even tell Peter that everything Brad said was a lie—the only thing he actually got wrong was how far she and Peter went at the party, which is the one thing she wishes were true after all.

It's frustrating and strange to have her reputation precede her when she's spent all of highschool passing under everyone's radar, unnoticed. Now, everyone has an opinion about her and none of them even know her.

 _Like Spider-Man's never ending battle with the Daily Bugle_ , she thinks ruefully, holding her menu up so Peter can't see her face.


	3. Chapter 3

Although his ears were ringing from the pain, Peter could still hear distant shouts somewhere in the room and shot a web at his attacker without looking. One thug had caught Spider-Man off guard and slammed a heavy pipe into his head, making Peter's entire world go black, then painfully bright as a searing pain shot through his skull.

But the only thing on his mind was how he was already late for his date with MJ—his first real, non-setup date with her—and he doesn’t want to let her down. She makes him literally feel a spring in his step, and a jolt of excitement explodes in his brain whenever he thinks of her.

“Alright, this has been a real blast, but I've gotta get going,” said Peter, webbing up the last of Kingpin's men. “I’m keeping someone special waiting, and I want to make a good first impression. Or second? Actually, it's kind of our third hangout, but our first official, you know, date-date, and—whoa!”

Dodging a peal of gunfire from the last guy he missed, Peter back-flipped onto a ceiling beam to disarm the gunman from above, shooting webs around the weapon and his ankles to string him up into the air.

It was just supposed to be a routine drug deal bust that would leave Peter enough time to get ready for his date, but it all turned out to be a trap for Spider-Man that was eating up all his date-prep time.

Thwipping his way out of the warehouse like a madman, he soared back to Manhattan like his life depended on it. There wasn't enough time to stop by his dorm for a shower, so Peter threw his crumpled dress clothes over his Spider-Man suit in an alleyway before taking off in a dead sprint to the pizzeria.

Glancing at his watch, he saw that he was already an hour late.

"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered, cutting his way down the street and crossing before the light changed, earning angry honks from the surrounding cars.

When he arrived at the restaurant, he spotted MJ immediately. A familiar surge of excitement filled his chest, but then he frowned. Some tall dark-haired guy was talking to her, leaning over her table and making her tense up in a way that Peter didn’t like.

Outside of classes, which he didn't always attend, Peter didn't spend enough time on campus to know who's who—Flash and Harry were big enough gossips to keep up on campus life for him—but it was clear that this guy thought he was some sort of hotshot at ESU.

When MJ turned and caught Peter’s eye, he hoped the shift in her expression was relief—but she doesn't really let much show on her face. He'd call it a poker face if he knew how to play poker.

Of course, the tall guy turns out to be MJ’s ex-boyfriend, and Peter can't help wondering if she's having second thoughts about going out with a nobody like Peter Parker now.

A nobody that embarrassed her in front of everyone at a party, too. Great.

Unless he was always just a rebound from the start? MJ didn't call him after their night together, and the only reason they even met again was because their aunts arranged it.

Peter groans inwardly at himself.

"I like your dress," he says while they're waiting for their pizza. It’s flowery and pretty, and Michelle might be wearing it ironically, but it looks perfect on her.

"Thanks," she replies, not looking at him. The easy banter they had before has evaporated, replaced by a suffocating vacuum throughout their meal.

"Are you okay?" Peter tries again. "I'm really sorry I was late. And for the... I can try and see if I can get those photos deleted—"

"It's fine," she says firmly, shutting down the topic. "I don't care."

The knot in his stomach grows, and Peter swallows down his anxiety with a cheesy bite of pizza. He doesn't want this to end up like all his other attempts at dating, but it's inevitable that he'll disappoint MJ. He already did it tonight, leaving the perfect opening for her ex to swoop in and keep her company.

Peter really was his own worst enemy.

After they've finished their pizzas in silence and the server has taken the grease-stained trays away, MJ clears her throat and says, "Take me home, Peter."

His heart drops, but he tries not to let it show on his face. This wasn't how he hoped their first proper date would go, but at least she stayed through all of it.

"Sure, of course," Peter says, forcing a cheerful smile.

He doesn't mention that they were supposed to have extra desserts together.

After they've paid the check, he slips her coat over her shoulders while racking his brain for a way to salvage their night together. MJ is so distracted that she doesn't even make a snarky comment at his old-fashioned gesture, and thanks him absentmindedly.

“I can walk you to your building first—”

"No."

His shoulders sag and he feels like she's slipping away from him.

"Take me to your place," she clarifies, hugging her arms around herself against the autumn chill.

"What?" He turns to her, confused.

She tucks some curly wisps of hair blowing in the wind behind her ear, still not making eye contact with him. "My roommate's in tonight, so… if your place is free..."

"Oh," says Peter, every thought in his head colliding with each other. "My place, cool. Okay."

He doesn't want to get his hopes up. Maybe she just wants to let him down in private, or have a quickie to get over running into her ex. His stomach lurches at that.

Peter steals a glance at MJ when she's not looking his way and watches the way the traffic lights reflect off the planes of her face. Her hands are tucked into her coat pockets.

All the way back to his dorm building, restless energy radiates from MJ in waves, like she’s itching to say something to him, but she catches herself each time.

He'd give anything to know what was going on inside her head. Her expression seems to shift with the colored lights, but the shadows keep morphing, making it impossible to read her actual face.

They're barely through his door when MJ takes off her coat and sweater in a hurry. Before Peter can offer to hang her clothes over his desk chair, she turns around and pulls him in close by the back of the neck until their lips are inches from each other.

Then she hesitates, as if unsure of where to go after getting this far. Her breath is warm and soft against his cheek, and her chest is rising and falling a beat faster than normal. They stare at each other, not touching except for her hands around his neck.

Unable to hold back any longer, Peter leans in and closes the gap between them and catches her lips in his, and they kiss more slowly this time, carefully tasting each other. His hand reaches up to tilt her chin toward him, his fingers caressing her neck on the way and making her shiver in his arms.

Then they're falling over each other and kissing on his bed, and he mutters that his roommate is out for the rest of the night. MJ smiles and lets him maneuver them on his twin bed until she's sitting on top of him.

Peter feels his pants tighten in the crotch area and closes his eyes, trying to calm himself down. But the warm sweet smell of her hair just brings him back to the night they met.

The music was annoying and loud, and his head was all heavy and fuzzy from drinking, but MJ smelled so good and he was in love with her laugh already—it came as a burst of sound each time, like she was surprised that she was laughing at all, followed by a satisfied smirk or scrunch of her nose.

Her hot mouth sucks at Peter's neck, bringing him back to the present with urgency, and his eyes snap wide open, taking in the sight of her. She sits back and gives him a little nervous smile that he returns.

Taking a deep breath, she tugs down the front of her dress to expose a lacy bra and looks down at his hands resting on her thighs. Her lips are parted but she says nothing. It feels like she's offering something to him, but he doesn't know if he's ready for it—if he can give her what she needs.

He swallows thickly, unable to tear himself from staring at MJ sitting there in only some lacy fabric barely covering her breasts, with her dress bunched around her waist.

When he feels her fingers sneak down to his crotch and grip him over his pants, Peter lets out a pleased groan, doing everything he can to hold on when she begins to pump him, slowly and deliberately. Soon his mind is unravelling, and all he can focus on is the wild pleasure of her touch taking over all of his senses.

"Peter. I want to… I'm ready," she says in his ear.

He stills, his hands on her hips, thumbs playing with the band of her underwear beneath her dress. "What?"

Letting out a little impatient sigh, MJ sidles up closer and says, "I'm saying that I'm ready to have sex with you."

"Oh. _Oh_ ," Peter repeats when understanding and hope dawns on him. "That's—that's awesome…"

She laughs and her hands roam up to tug at his belt as she continues kissing him, impatiently trying to unzip his pants at the same time.

That's when Peter remembers the unmistakable red and blue suit he's still wearing underneath his clothes and jerks back with a start, pushing MJ off of him.

"No!” he gasps, his brain functions spluttering. His hand flies up to clutch his shirt closed while the other holds his belt up.

MJ freezes, and all the air is immediately sucked out of the room. She furrows her brows, a mix of hurt and confusion etched all over her features. "Okay. Um, is that a 'no' as in you don't want to have sex _at all_ , or just not with—"

“No, no, I didn't mean that! I just… I just needed a second...” Peter rambles, hands still covering himself as if he were naked.

Her wounded expression softens. "Yeah?"

Peter nods, but his relief is overshadowed by the immediate dilemma of how to proceed without her discovering his suit and his secret.

Maybe he can tell her he can only have sex in complete darkness? Or that he can only do it if he's still fully clothed? Ugh, that would make him sound like such a creep, but he doesn't know what else to do.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, trying to buy some more time to think.

MJ shrugs stiffly. "Everyone already thinks we have, so why not?"

That hits Peter in the gut harder than any of the thugs he fought earlier tonight. He opens his mouth but shuts it again before saying anything, brows furrowed. He doesn't want to be an impulsive decision she'll regret tomorrow, and he definitely doesn’t want to be just some distraction from her ex.

But another part of Peter just wants whatever MJ's willing to give him, even if it's only some physical fun. He might not be cut out for relationships anyway—he's unreliable and always lying to his friends and family, and he's already disappointed her tonight.

“MJ, I… can’t,” Peter finally says, even though every part of him is screaming at him to say yes, to give her what she wants—because it's what he wants, too, so, so badly. But he’s not sure if this is what she really wants, and he tells her that.

"And who are you to tell me what I want, Parker?" MJ says, crossing her arms across her chest. Her face is flushed and her eyes flash with anger and indignation.

"I'm not—I mean, I just don't want you doing something for the wrong reasons and regretting it later."

"Luckily it's not up to you to decide any of that for me, is it?" she challenges. "Besides, I've already made plenty of mistakes to regret all on my own, so what's a few more?"

Peter bristles at the suggestion that he'd be another mistake on her list.

"Well, maybe I'm not interested in being used just so you can get back at your ex-boyfriend," he says, seething, and regrets the words as they fly out of his mouth.

She stares at him for a moment, nostrils flared, before exhaling angrily.

"You don't know the first fucking thing about me, Peter Parker," MJ replies hotly, getting up. "And I don't know anything about you. Like where were you tonight?"

"Who? Me? Tonight?"

"Yeah, that's the question, broken up into three smaller, useless questions," she says sharply. "What made you an hour late without so much as a heads up text? If you didn't want to see me, you could just say so—"

"It was an emergency!" Peter exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. "A... lab emergency for my internship at Stark Industries! Um, there was an accident, and I had to swing by to clean it up, and I didn't think it would take as long as it did. I'm really sorry."

He hasn’t had to use a Stark Internship excuse in a long time, and the guilt sits in his stomach as the lies come tumbling out of his mouth, an old reflex.

Peering at him curiously, MJ's expression is almost impassive, but he can hear her heartbeat flutter nervously despite her cool demeanor. It’s her eyes that give her away; they're wide and hopeful, even as she bites down on a pout forming on her lips.

"Are you telling me the truth, Peter?"

Peter pauses for a beat too long, and MJ's shoulders sag, her disappointment weighing her down.

Without another word, she pulls her dress back on and shrugs on her sweater, cheeks bright red. "This was a mistake, I shouldn't have—"

"Please, wait, MJ. I didn't mean for tonight to turn out like this."

She shakes her head and rushes out of his room before he can get his belt back on. He runs after her anyway, but MJ is nowhere to be seen when he gets to the hallway.

_===_

Once she has managed to stop replaying her disastrous date with Peter in her mind, MJ goes back to avoiding The Peter Radius with even greater determination. She even entertains the idea of keeping it up for the rest of the semester—maybe even for the rest of her undergrad years at ESU, if necessary.

But without meaning to, she keeps mentally cataloging anecdotes and jokes she wants to tell Peter, silly things that only he would find funny or interesting. Before him, no one really got her references, anyway. Now it feels like she's missing something, and a different kind of loneliness follows her all week.

Brad and his friends used to make fun of her for being so aloof and unphased by everything—"cold as ice, baby!" But the jokes soon lost their playful tone and became more pointed as the semester wore on: Michelle Jones is withholding, she's emotionless, immoveable, or "a frigid bitch," as someone so elegantly labeled her.

Except she isn't. There's so much that she wants from Peter that it burns her up inside, and it drives her crazy when she tries to hold it all in. It actually feels like a fire churning her guts—what is it about him? Why can't she stop thinking about him?

And what will Peter do when he figures out that she's just a phony who's obsessed with telling the truth about everything but herself?

She wasn't really looking for anything but a chance to have fun and misbehave the night they met, and maybe a meaningless hook-up to exorcise her breakup from her mind, at least for the evening.

But when Peter’s around, MJ feels like she's enough just as she is, without having to prove anything. He makes her feel like a better version of herself, and she's not quite ready to think about what that means yet.

Running into Brad, on the other hand, made her feel like she was a first semester freshman again, uncomfortable in her own skin and uncertain of how to behave around all these new people. What did Peter see when he saw those pictures of them at the party? Did he see a party girl that attracts drama and creepy exes? Did he see a girl who would complicate his otherwise quiet, nerdy little life?

Not that any of it matters now. She ruined their night by storming off—more out of embarrassment than anger, but it was a mood killer either way.

So when MJ begins frequenting the Silver Spoon and Coffee Bean, she tells herself it's to shake up her daily routine and _not_ because she's secretly hoping to run into Peter by chance. She doesn't.

"Or you could just call him," suggests Betty.

MJ looks at her roommate like she's insane. "I can't look Peter in the face again because I threw myself at him like some desperate virgin and got rejected. I don't think calling him first will make me seem any less pathetic."

"I'm sure he doesn't think that about you," says Betty, trying to talk some sense into MJ again. "I think _you_ think that about you."

"Whatever. I'm still not calling him."

“Because that’ll get you closer to what you want?”

“And what is it that I want, Betty?”

Betty shrugs, turning back to her homework. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

Saved by her phone ringing, MJ makes a face at her roommate’s back and picks up her cellphone. It's her aunt calling from Florida for their monthly catch up—and for the promised debrief session on MJ's Silver Spoon date with May's nephew.

“He's alright,” MJ says, tucking her phone into the crook of her neck so she can sketch in her notebook while they talk. “Kind of a square. But if he loosened up a little, there might be some hope for that nerd.”

"Oh, be nice, honey," her aunt chides, but her voice sounds amused. She was always the only adult in MJ’s life who understood and listened to her, even when MJ didn’t make it easy.

"I'm always nice."

"Whatever you say. Just don't go breaking the poor boy's heart, okay? May Parker's my dearest and oldest friend, and I wouldn't know what to say to her."

Easy enough. MJ can't break his heart if she doesn't see him again—and, more importantly, he can't break hers.

"I'll try not to," MJ deadpans, shading the same dark circle on the sketch page again. "But with half the guys in school drooling all over my shoes, I can't make any promises."

"Oh, Michelle, you're too much!"

"I'm just the right amount, Aunt Anna."

"Well, May _does_ keep saying that Peter needs someone who will push his buttons," her aunt persists, "and you definitely know how to push people's buttons."


	4. Chapter 4

"Are you telling us that you got an actual _model_ back to your room and blew it? Penis, you are such a lost cause that it actually makes my head hurt!"

"Careful Flash, might be 'cause you’re using your head for the first time," says Harry, sniffing at the cold drink in Peter's cup and making a face. "Ugh, you must really be down if you drank this stuff, Pete."

Although it looks like any other small coffee and malt shop, the Coffee Bean is an old and venerated ESU haunt that is beloved for many things, but not, ironically, for its coffee. It's also where Flash and Harry find Peter frantically trying to finish a paper that's due in three hours, but they waylay him into a debrief session on his date with MJ.

"I said I don't want to talk about it," says Peter, rubbing his eyes. "And stop looking MJ up on the internet, it's weird and creepy."

"Don't you want to know more about her? Isn't that the whole point to this ‘dating’ thing you’re obsessed with?" asks Harry, crooking his fingers in air quotes.

"Yeah, but I want to hear it from her directly, the stuff she wants to share with me."

Peter knows what it feels like to have unfounded rumors about him—or at least Spider-Man—swirling around, out of his control. He knows what it's like to have stories about him that were sensationalized and distorted further away from the truth with each retelling until he's unrecognizable to himself.

“Well her modeling profile is online, so that’s totally fair game,” says Flash, tilting Peter's laptop towards him. "Let me pull it up for you, dummy. Did you know she's five foot ten? Maybe she left when she realized you've been wearing lifted shoes, shorty!"

Swatting him away, Peter grabs his computer back and exclaims, "Dude! I told you, I don't need to see it."

"So, what happened?" Harry persists, stirring his cappuccino with a tiny spoon. "What d'you do to scare her off?"

_I was an hour late and almost stood her up. Then I accused her of using me for sex to get over her asshole ex while lying about Spider-Man, just like I lie to all of you because I'm a terrible friend._

"Nothing. Nothing happened, Harry," says Peter, hiding behind his laptop.

"Nothing happened, but now she won't talk to you or see you?" his friend persists.

"Forget about him, Harry. Penis Parker's loss is another man's gain," says Flash. “Why don’t you and I try our luck? Just 'cause he struck out doesn't mean one of us can't go for it—"

"Go for what?" a familiar voice asks.

All three boys turn and come face to face with Gwen, who is approaching their table while arm in arm with none other than Michelle Jones.

"MJ?" Peter stands up abruptly and gets tangled with the charging cable, nearly knocking his laptop off the table.

"Hey, loser," says MJ, nodding at Peter. Her expression is cool and unaffected, but there's a hint of a smile on her lips and his heart jumps.

"Again?!" Flash groans. "How does Gwen always get the girl first?"

"Face it, we are so outclassed, Flash. Just totally outgunned by these girls,” says Harry, shaking his head in mock dismay. “They could play us like fiddles and we'd let ‘em play."

"Uh, I didn't know you guys were friends?" Peter says when he finds his voice again. They do make a formidable pair, he has to admit, and the idea of all five of them hanging out seems like a pleasant fantasy—one reserved for a normal college guy who didn't moonlight as a costumed superhero.

"The best of friends, Pete," says Gwen, tilting her head towards MJ.

"We're thinking about starting a band, actually," adds MJ, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smile.

"Yeah?" says Peter, unable to take his eyes off MJ.

"Yup, me on drums, obviously,” says Gwen, “and MJ can sing and play guitar. Just need a second guitarist and bassist, and we're on our way to the big leagues."

"I can play Wonderwall!" says Harry, raising his hand. "Well, I could probably learn it pretty quickly."

"You girls can open for me when I'm the resident DJ at the hottest club in the Meatpacking District!" says Flash, pointing at himself with both thumbs.

"No boys allowed," says MJ, looking at Peter. "They stink."

"That's okay," says Peter still lost in the shape of her lips, "I can just watch." MJ raises an eyebrow, and he feels his face heat up. "Wait, no, I meant I'd come watch your shows! Not watch… ugh."

He wishes he can curl up and disappear into non-existence, or at least stop his mouth from saying things ever again. Luckily, his rambling just makes her laugh while his friends shake their heads at him.

In a lower voice, MJ says, "Um, could we talk actually? Alone?"

With her hands on her hips, Gwen tilts her head and motions at Flash and Harry to leave Peter and MJ alone. When they don't move, she kicks the leg of Harry's chair and forces the two boys to get up. Grumbling, they comply and shuffle out of the coffee shop, muttering about starting their own rival band.

"Yes, just what the world needs," says Gwen, pushing them out of the cafe, "another mediocre DJ duo who thinks they're god's gift to Coachella."

After Peter's friends leave, MJ keeps standing there awkwardly, her eyes darting to the empty seat next to Peter.

He smacks his forehead. "Sorry! Do you want to sit?" he asks, sliding over to make plenty of room for MJ, though his body is itching to get closer to her.

"Thanks," she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Gwen told me you'd be here when I ran into her at the library earlier. She said you didn't tell her anything about our last date, so, um, thanks for that. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable—"

"You didn't. I just… can we start over?"

She nods, smiling, and approaches the table to sit down. But just as she comes around to his side, Peter realizes that Flash left his browser open on a black and white glamor headshot of MJ and panics. He quickly clicks around until her modeling profile page closes, only to reveal Spider-Man's YouTube homepage in the middle of a video upload.

With a strangled gasp, Peter slams his laptop shut and glances back at MJ, who's eyeing him suspiciously.

"Sorry, uh… just some homework," he stammers.

"Looked like Spider-Man's YouTube page," says MJ, her eyes narrowed.

"Uh… right! We're big fans, especially Flash. We were just watching Spider-Man's latest fight—"

"Really? 'cause it looked like you were uploading something to Spider-Man's account."

"What? That's crazy. Why would I be doing that?"

MJ takes out her phone, swipes a few times, and holds it up to show Peter the latest Spider-Man video on his official page.

"This was posted yesterday, and totally not the video you just had up."

“What? No! MJ, come on—”

"Come on what? What's your story this time?"

Peering at him intently, MJ doesn't look angry, but she presses her lips in a thin line; she's giving him another chance, but wary.

If he lies to her again, he could be blowing his second—or is this his third?—chance with MJ.

Peter sighs and runs his hand down his face. "You got me, MJ. I'm Spider-Man's… social media manager."

Michelle raises a suspicious eyebrow at him.

"Okay, okay, more like an intern. It's not like he gets paid anything to be paying me," says Peter.

"You're Spider-Man's intern?"

"Well, we're more like... colleagues."

"Uh huh. So do you know his real identity?"

Peter shakes his head. "Nope. That's top secret information that's definitely not disclosed to interns."

MJ squints at him, a crease forming between her brow. "Is this why you keep asking me what I think about Spider-Man? Because he's your boss?”

"I don't work _for_ Spider-Man, I work _with_ him," Peter insists. "I mean, it's not like he has the time to take and upload those videos and respond to fans and stuff while, you know, saving everyone. So I'm pretty crucial to the Spider-Man brand."

"Right. Of course. So Spider-Man did what? Put out a search listing for a social media manager? 'Arachnid-themed superhero seeks college student proficient with tweeting puns'?"

"Basically, yeah," says Peter, nodding.

MJ stares at him for a long moment, her dark eyes unwavering as they bore into his, dissecting him. Peter smiles back, as sweetly as he can muster. The vinyl seat squeaks beneath him, betraying his nervous fidgeting with an embarrassing sound.

"You are so full of crap, Parker," MJ scoffs, finally breaking eye contact. "So if you're the one answering from Spidey's accounts, did you get my DM propositioning him?"

"What?!" exclaims Peter. Spider-Man gets a lot of suggestive comments and salacious offers from strangers online, and the idea of one of those coming from MJ sends a shiver of excitement through him.

"I'm just messing with you," she laughs, the apples of her cheeks rosy. "But you need to get better at your job. Like, come on, a public WiFi? Shouldn't you download a VPN so the government doesn't track you and Spidey?"

"That… would be a smart idea."

"It is. I won't even charge you for it," says MJ, still grinning.

She's right, and Peter toys with the dangerous idea of sharing his secret with her.

Being Spider-Man is a lonely endeavor; no one knows his secret, not even his aunt or Gwen. He once considered telling them, but Gwen blames Spider-Man for her father's death and Aunt May has already lost so many people that the stress of worrying over him would do her in.

So Peter resigned himself to keeping his secret from the people closest to him. But what if it didn't have to be that way?

Just then a siren blares in the distance, coming closer as a squad of patrol cars speed by. The back of Peter's head tingles, alerting him of danger.

An emergency alert goes off on everyone’s cell phones, and Peter looks down at the notification on his own phone about a presumed super-related attack in Manhattan.

"Some news sources are saying that the Rhino broke out of prison and is at large in the city," says MJ, scrolling through her phone. "All citizens are warned to stay clear of midtown, yadda yadda..."

"The Rhino! He's free again?!"

Peter sighs. Why does everything in his life always have the worst timing? But he wouldn't be Peter Parker if something didn't happen to spoil his fun.

He has to go after Rhino as Spider-Man, but he really doesn't want to cut his time with MJ short again, especially not when he's just gotten another chance with her.

With great reluctance, he sighs, "I'm really sorry, MJ. I've gotta go."

"Of course you do," she says flatly, getting up.

Groaning inwardly, Peter briefly considers running after her and forgetting about Rhino and Spider-Man altogether, but he quickly abandons the fantasy when he remembers all the damage the Rhino caused last time, and all the casualties that ended up in the ER.

MJ stops by the door, still looking at her phone. "Latest tweets say Rhino is on the West Side. He might be headed to Penn Station, since they're evacuating the area. You know, it might be a kick to see the Rhino in person again." She glances up at Peter and blinks. "What are you waiting for?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, shoving his laptop into his backpack.

"I'm coming with you," she says tapping her foot impatiently. "Follow the sounds of the sirens, right? So you can get your Spidey photos?"

Not wasting another second, Peter jumps out of his seat and catches up to her, grinning widely. "Yes, Spidey photos! I read you loud and clear, lady, let's go!"

===

Everything is complete chaos when they get to Penn Station, from building facades crumbling in the wake of the Rhino's blows, to streets jam-packed with rubbernecking bystanders.

Luckily MJ made it easy for Peter to get to the scene without having to come up with an elaborate lie. But now he has to find a way to change into his Spidey suit without her finding out.

Maneuvering her to the furthest corner from the trail of debris, he clasps her shoulders and says, “Stay here. I’m going to get some photos and maybe a live story of Spider-Man! Be back in a jiffy!”

Before she can protest or follow, he takes off and disappears into the crowd of panicked civilians headed in the opposite direction.

He can't stay away too long or MJ will get suspicious, so Peter focuses on taking Rhino down as fast as possible. Is Spidey going girl-crazy? Jameson and the Bugle would have a field day with that one.

Although the Rhino ends up getting away, Spider-Man successfully holds him off from tearing down the rest of the avenue and keeps the fight and subsequent damage isolated to the block around Penn.

Looking for MJ in the crowd, Peter starts to panic when he can't find her. At one point during the fight, he saw her steering civilians away from the worst of the danger and towards evacuation routes, using her height and intimidating air of authority to her advantage.

MJ looked so beautiful and determined amidst the smoke and destruction that a distracted Spider-Man almost ate the Rhino's fist a few times. Would have been worth it, he heals fast.

Finally, Peter spots MJ standing in the middle of an intersection with broken asphalt and glass all around her. Swinging over without hesitation, he reaches for her before his feet even completely land on the ground.

"You're okay!" He squeezes his arms tightly around her, and he feels MJ's arms wrap around his waist to hug him back, her shaking body melting into him. When Peter absent-mindedly tucks her hair behind her ear, they both tense up at the same time.

He releases her immediately and steps back, stammering, "Uh, _ma'am_. I mean, I'm glad you're okay, ma'am."

MJ stares back at him with wide eyes and nostrils flared, a flush burning high in her cheeks. With an awkward nod, she steps away, and her gaze lingers on his masked face.

Without thinking, Peter turns and hugs the man beside her next. "And you too, sir. Glad to see you're okay! And you, over there! Good to see you're alive, too!"

He does that to another few people before the grateful civilians start to decline Spider-Man's hugs and leave.

"Thanks, Spidey," says MJ, who lingers behind, rocking on her heels. "For saving everyone from Rhino."

"Eh, he still got away," Peter replies, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks for keeping everyone away from the area, M—ma'am. It's a pain for me to crowd control at the same time as fighting a dude in a mechanized rhinoceros suit, so I really appreciate it."

Her cheeks burn darker and MJ's lips part, on the verge of saying something. "...you noticed me from all the way up there?"

_Crap. Think fast, Parker! Don't spill your guts, but don't be a creep._

"Uh… I remember you from the last Rhino fight at Washington Square Park?"

_That's kinda creepy!_

"Oh." MJ chews her bottom lip, considering something as she looks Spider-Man up and down. "I know your social media intern."

"Oh yeah? Peter, right?" says Peter, crossing his arms and leaning against a telephone pole. “He’s a cool dude, really, really awesome guy. Like, I’d wanna be Peter if I wasn’t me, Spider-Man.”

"Yeah, real awesome," replies MJ, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Uh oh.

"You should pay him better, or maybe at all, so he can finally take me out on a decent date."

"You don't like the dates you go on with—with Peter?"

MJ shrugs, still eying him suspiciously. "Haven't had the chance to go on a proper one with him yet, his boss is too much of a hardass."

"No way!" he exclaims, pretending to be affronted as he presses the back of his hand against his masked forehead. "I thought you said I was too much of a goody two shoes for you!"

MJ does that thing with her eyebrow again, raising it just slightly, and tilts her chin up. "Huh. Right. Well Peter's actually supposed to meet up with me again after all that," says MJ, gesturing at the rubble that used to be a food hall along Seventh Avenue.

"I can go find him—"

"Nah, I'd feel safer hanging out with you until Peter gets back," she interrupts, looking at Spider-Man with an almost challenging stare. “If that’s, you know, cool with you, Spidey.”

Peter gulps. "Oh, um, well I can't really hang around all afternoon, got a lot of Spider-Manning stuff to do, you know how it is," he rambles. "Actually, I think I hear something, I should go check it out—”

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Well, you can't hear it without super-hearing,” says Peter. “I'll catch you later… ma'am. Tell Peter I said hi!"

With that, Spider-Man leaps into the air and swings away like his feet are on fire, and MJ is left staring into the empty sky with her hands on her hips.

Not long after, Peter comes running towards MJ, out of breath. She stares at him suspiciously, getting right into his face to inspect a cut on his jaw he'd hoped would heal already.

"Did someone throw you down a flight of stairs, nerd?"

"Huh? Oh, well, you know," Peter mumbles, "it can get kinda rough out there with the crowds, and Spider-Man was fighting the Rhino dude—"

He stills when she touches his jaw lightly, her fingertips hovering by the cut, then she's leaning in to press a kiss along the bruise on his forehead.

“If I knew I was working on the reward system, I’d have thrown myself in front of a train,” Peter chuckles nervously, his heart thundering harder than at any point during his brawl with Rhino.

“Whatever makes my guy happy,” says MJ, more quietly this time.

Her guy? That sounds promising, but Peter tries to keep his expectations tempered.

"Does that mean we're okay?" he asks sheepishly. "Even though I screwed up our make up date, too?"

"What do you mean? I had a blast today, Pete. Got to see my date in action and everything." Her face is unreadable again, her dark eyes shadowed by her lashes.

"What?" Peter gulps. "What action? Why would I be—"

"You recorded all that, right? For Spidey's YouTube channel or whatever?"

"Oh right, yeah! Yes, I did."

"Weird, I didn't see you at all during the whole fight, though."

Despite the guilty feeling tugging inside him, Peter makes up some story about running into a building to take the photos from a second-story window, and MJ seems to buy it, or at least she lets him off the hook.

"Your life is a lot more exciting than I expected, Parker," she says, playing with one of his loose backpack straps. "When my aunt told me she knew 'just the nicest boy' for me, I wasn't thinking you'd turn out to be Spider-Man's… intern."

"Yeah, I'm full of surprises," Peter replies, licking a cut on his lip.

===

MJ has a theory that she's sixty-seven percent certain about.

Spider-Man's social media intern? What the hell does that mean? MJ should be offended that Peter thinks she's stupid enough to believe that.

But she is also falling for him—which makes her scared and angry because she knows he's hiding something, which means he's been lying to her, and she swore to herself that she would never put up with that again.

Is Peter the reliable and sensitive boy that Aunt Anna promised? Or is he actually the wild and irresponsible Spider-Man that enjoys diving into trouble?

She supposes he could ask the same of her—is she the Academic Decathlon captain who’s watched every episode of Unsolved Murders but never went to a sleepover in highschool? Or a stuck-up bitch who strings boys along for the hell of it?

Or maybe they're both something in between the different masks they wear, their true selves a shifting, morphing thing that only comes out when they're together.

MJ shakes her head. She's getting way ahead of herself.

First, she is going to find out what Peter Parker is really hiding, once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: Peter doesn't turn his paper in in time. BUT we're finally getting to the smut that was the originally intended one-shot that grew unto this multi-chapter! Thanks for sticking it out :P


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait to post this, so I broke this chapter into two parts. Explicit smut ahead!
> 
> *Featuring lines from Parallel Lives (which the fic title is a play on)

MJ is willing to admit that her penchant for conspiracy theories might be skewing her observation and data gathering, but she's still pretty sure that Peter Parker is Spider-Man.

For one thing, he keeps showing up to their dates and study sessions with cuts and bruises—when he shows up at all. But his latenesses and absences, by MJ's tracking, line up suspiciously well with Spider-Man's fights and appearances around the city.

Sure, Peter could just be Spider-Man's social media intern like he said, and that's why he goes MIA whenever Spidey is saving the day, but that doesn't explain his ridiculous abs, unnaturally fast healing, or how stupid his story sounded in the first place.

Observing Peter also provides MJ with the distraction she needs after they agreed to take things slow and start over afresh. They still kiss and hold hands but don't progress much from there, much to her growing frustration.

It's funny, MJ used to loathe public displays of affection, too. At least she did when she was dating Brad. Whenever his friends were around, he would try to get her to sit on his lap or put an arm around her, and she'd have to remind him every time that she didn't care for it.

"It's not like we own each other or something," she would explain, plucking his hand off her thigh. "PDA is just so unnecessary and vomit-inducing."

"But what's the point to dating a model if no one knows you're with me?" Brad countered, half-joking.

Then MJ would roll her eyes and repeat herself again, "I already told you, I'm not a model. It was just a photoshoot for some clothing catalog no one's ever heard of."

She had to pay for college applications somehow, but never expected the job to keep popping up in college every time she met someone new—Brad loved bringing it up every time he introduced his girlfriend to anyone, and it drove her nuts.

A lot of things he did annoyed the hell out of her, but MJ just assumed that the problem was her; that she was the one who was too uptight or sensitive or shy, and lucky that someone would put up with her and her hangups.

But when she's with Peter, she's always finding excuses to touch and be touched by him, whether or not they're alone. From tucking back that curly lock of hair when it falls over his forehead, to smoothing his shirt across his chest, MJ can't get enough of being close to him and feeling his warmth beneath her palms.

Even the lightest brush from Peter on her shoulder or lower back makes her crave more, and she'll spend the rest of the day recalling how hard Spider-Man's body felt pressed up against her in that skin-tight suit. While she was terrified out of her mind during his fight with Rhino, the throat-choking terror of being so close to the danger was numbed by the breathtaking show of watching Spider-Man in action.

Afterwards, she didn't even realize what was happening at the time until Spider-Man had her in his arms; it was just so easy to sink into his embrace and forget everything else.

The way he held her felt instantly familiar, like he didn't want to ever let her go, and if he held on tight enough they could stay like that forever.

_===_

When she sees the news alert for a mob-related shoot-out on Staten Island, MJ finds herself making excuses for Peter with his own friends, telling them he's running late because of a work emergency and probably won't make it to the party.

"Sounds like you've figured out Peter's big secret," says Gwen, giving her a knowing look.

MJ freezes. "What?"

"Work emergency?" Gwen raises her pierced eyebrow. "I've known Peter since highschool. He's been doing this for years, and I've given up trying to figure out what he's really up to."

"And he never told you what was going on with him?" MJ asks cautiously.

Gwen shrugs. "Pete's always been one to put on a happy face and pretend everything's okay. But if you're in on it, then at least someone on the inside is watching out for him."

If only Gwen knew how much MJ was still on the outside, she thinks wryly.

_Who are you, Peter Parker?_

When MJ finishes her drink, her head starts to spin. Good, that should take her mind off of him. The party is loud and smells of cheap beer and sweat, but she's missed dancing and letting loose after a long week of classes. Plus, college parties don’t seem so bad anymore with Gwen, Harry, and Flash to keep her company.

_Science geek or lawless vigilante?_

Shaking her head, as if that would keep Peter from creeping back into her mind, MJ takes another shot, throwing the burning liquid into the back of her throat, and coughs. Her vision starts to swim, so she follows the sounds of thumping music to where everyone is dancing.

_Maybe he's the boy next door. Or he's the superhero who keeps saving the city, over and over again._

Closing her eyes, MJ shuts out everything except for the music and just dances, letting her body sway and drop with the beat. She can feel the alcohol burn her up inside, her head pounding and the world feeling far away yet close-up and too loud at the same time.

Good, she doesn’t want to think about anything tonight, not even the mystery of Peter Parker.

_How can she find out who he really is without getting hurt?_

She can't decide if she should confront Peter about his secret directly, or drop hints that she knows, hoping he'll come to her and tell her himself. Maybe it doesn’t matter how it happens, as long as she can finally stop pretending that she doesn’t know the truth about him.

_Why is she so drawn to him? Why does he frighten her?_

But what if she’s wrong?

That would be embarrassing, maybe even mortifying, but she can’t imagine Peter ever making fun of her for it. It could become an inside joke, something for him to tease her about, playfully and never cruel.

She could hold onto his secret, quietly and close to her heart, like everything else that matters to her. But MJ wonders if what she’s doing to him is actually crueler—not telling him that she knows his secret while watching him struggle alone as he juggles his double life.

Or maybe MJ can just keep dancing forever, then she'll never have to decide what to do next.

But no matter how much she danced and how hard she partied, MJ couldn't get Peter Parker's face out of her mind—neither of them, the red-masked one nor the barefaced smile that makes her heart float every time she sees it.

_What should she do?_

_What should she do?_

_What should she do?_

_===_

A knock on her door wakes MJ up, and she groans from the heavy pressure of a hangover throbbing behind her eyes. She manages to drag herself upright long enough to open the door, where Peter greets her with a bag of fresh bagels and hot coffee.

If she wasn’t still half asleep and feeling entirely unsexy, MJ would jump him right now and kiss him all over the face. Instead, she grunts and motions for him to come in.

"Sorry I bailed on the party last night," he says, setting the food down on Betty's desk and shrugging his backpack off.

"It's okay," says MJ, reaching for the heavenly smelling coffee. "I can still have a good time without you."

“Good,” Peter says through a mouthful of bagel and cream cheese. He swallows and flashes her a smile. "Wouldn't want you to get bored waiting around for me."

"Only boring people get bored," MJ replies, taking a bite out of her bagel.

As they eat their breakfast, her hangover gradually releases its vice grip on her skull, replaced by the rush of caffeine to her brain and the warm glow of being with Peter, whole and alive.

She tells him about the party and what he missed, their thighs pressed against each other on her narrow bed. He laughs at her story about Gwen pulling her up to dance on a table and trying to convince her to start a mosh pit, and how they still beat Harry and Flash at beer pong despite how drunk they already were.

MJ notices how Peter doesn't tell her anything about his night and what he was up to. If he'd gotten hurt, she'd have to hear about it on the news like everyone else.

"How long do I have you this time before you leave again?"

She didn't mean for it to sound so accusing, but Peter's flirty smile falters anyway.

"As long as you want me," he says, balling up the remnants of his breakfast.

Scoffing, MJ tilts her head towards him to inspect a fading bruise on his jaw—courtesy of Tombstone's thugs, if the news reports were right about last night.

Thinking that she's leaning in for a kiss, Peter catches her lips in his, and his hands come up to cup her face. Surprised but pleased, MJ closes her eyes and kisses him back.

"Mmf… morning breath," she mumbles, pulling away, but Peter leans into her and mutters back, "Don't care… y’smell like coffee."

“Gross,” she giggles, letting her hands wander lower on his body as they keep kissing.

They only stop so Peter can reach over his head to pull his shirt off, and MJ drinks in the sight of his bare muscles. Knowing she's looking, he flexes, making the veins in his forearms bulge and his pecs swell. MJ snorts at him.

 _“_ You already got me half naked and in bed, dork. You don't have to keep working so hard," she says teasingly, even though her heart is fluttering nervously, hopefully.

"Trust me, MJ, this isn't work," he says, running his hands up her thighs. "I just want to make sure I do it right and make you feel good."

His eyes are so earnest and innocent for a guy who's lying on top of her, almost naked and, hopefully, about to have sex with her. The absurdity of it makes her start laughing, and she pulls him in for another kiss, and then another.

His hands run down her sides to the waistband of her sweatpants, sending a shiver of excitement through her. It’s finally happening. She takes a deep shaky breath, reminding herself to play it cool, even as Peter kisses her stomach and rubs his thumbs in circles along her hips, fingering the edge of her panties.

That’s when MJ remembers that she’s wearing her laundry day underwear, which happened to be Spider-Man themed, and she freezes.

"Are you okay?" Peter says quickly, sitting up. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have—”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replies, chewing her bottom lip. She’s been waiting for this for so long, is she really going to put it off because she’s self conscious about some embarrassing underwear?

Fuck it. Maybe his reaction will confirm her suspicions once and for all, so MJ wriggles out of her pants and lies back down beneath him.

She can tell when Peter notices the heart-shaped Spidey heads printed on her underwear by the way his breath hitches and his roaming hands still on her hips, thumb tracing the outer edge of the fabric.

He doesn't say anything at first, and MJ finds herself holding her breath until he says something, anything.

Peter licks his lips and says, "When you said you had a crush on Spider-Man in highschool—"

"Shut up," says MJ, trying to hide her embarrassment with indignation.

"Don't get me wrong, they look very good," he says, chuckling.

"You don't have to lie, I can embrace my dorkiness."

"No, I can honestly say that's the sexiest pair of underwear I've ever seen," says Peter, reaching his arms around her waist to tug her back towards him. "Because they're on you, and anything on you is sexy."

"You don't think it's too weird? Since you work for him and all," says MJ, rolling back to face Peter while she's on her side.

"Trust me, Spidey's got a lot of weird fans. Spider-Man underwear, as cute and sexy as they are on you, is pretty tame in comparison."

"Oh yeah? You saying Spider-Man would think I'm too tame?"

Peter sits up, smiling crookedly at her. "Why do you care what Spider-Man thinks of you?"

MJ shrugs, throwing her long curly hair over her shoulder and feeling less self-conscious now. "I just wouldn't want him to get the wrong impression about me, that's all."

"And what impression would that be?"

Hooking her leg over Peter's hip, MJ rolls herself on top of him so that she's straddling his lap. "That there's anything tame about me."

"I'll make sure to tell him that the next time I see him," says Peter.

"Oh yeah? Didn't think Spidey needed a wingman, Parker."

"What can I say? Not my style to turn away someone in need, especially if I can help," says Peter, grinning at her.

He picks her up and rolls her onto her back and kisses her on her stomach then works his way down to her inner thighs, pressing his lips against the soft skin there. MJ’s breaths come out shallow, and she tries to hold herself still as Peter's mouth gets dangerously close to the edge of her underwear.

When she feels his hot breath right there, MJ almost gives into the urge to drop her knees further apart, but then he pulls away.

"Sorry," he says, breathing heavy. "I got a little carried away."

"It's okay. Don't stop," she says, looking down at Peter. She holds his gaze so he knows it's more of a demand than a request.

He hesitates, fighting between what he wants to do and what he thinks he should do. His thumbs rub nervous circles on her back, and it makes her feel warm all over.

MJ lets her bra strap slip down her shoulder, to sweeten the odds in her favor. "Peter, I'm ready."

His thumbs still, fingers still pressed into the flesh of her thighs. "Are you sure? Don't you want your first time to be more romantic than eating bagels in bed?"

She thinks of all the times she's wanted to pull him into a closet or stairwell, and all the nights she's touched herself while imagining what it'd be like with him.

"Yes, I'm sure," MJ says firmly. "I just want to be with you, Peter. The whole concept of virginity is just a patriarchal artifact intended to commoditize women and our bodies anyway."

That makes Peter laugh, and he lets his hands wander down her backside and come to a rest on her thighs again, giving MJ another chance to change her mind.

But she just takes one of his hands and guides it down further between her legs, his slick fingers parting her slowly. Inhaling sharply, MJ squirms around his fingers and wraps her arms around his neck, murmuring for him to keep going.

Peter presses his hot mouth over her next, making her writhe as his hand keeps working at her. She looks down at the sweat collecting on his forehead and runs her fingers through his hair, panting.

After he’s gotten her wet and open and aching for more, she tells Peter to grab a condom.

"A little longer," he says, mouth muffled between her legs. "You taste so good."

"You're just teasing me now," she complains. "And I'm not going to beg for it."

"No? Should we test that?"

"Oh my god, just shut up and fuck me already, Parker!"

Wiping his mouth with his forearm, Peter grins and starts tearing open a square foil. Her heart is thudding as she lies there, legs open and waiting for him.

When he rolls the condom on and asks her if she's ready, MJ nods and reaches down to guide him inside her, bracing herself.

His first thrust makes MJ gasp, but it doesn’t hurt the way she imagined it would. There's a brief moment of sharp pain when he first enters her, then a blossoming ache takes over as her body adjusts around him.

She still feels too tight, so Peter stills and kisses her neck until she relaxes a bit more. Moaning softly, she takes him in inch by inch, and once he's all the way inside of her, it starts to feel good—really, really good.

When the initial pain subsides, MJ nods and Peter begins moving his hips, deep and slow, opening her up more and more with each thrust. They stop whenever it starts to feel like too much for her, then resume once she's ready again.

Soon, everything else just melts away, and all MJ cares about is the thumping of his heart against her chest, and heat building up between them on their skin.

He's breathing heavy now, still slowly pumping in and out of her, and it feels incredible. A twinge of guilt creeps along the edge of her pleasure, telling her to tell him that she _knows_ , but MJ shoves it aside.

"Does this feel okay?" Peter pants, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Yes… yes, fuck," she hisses, struggling to focus on anything but the way he's spreading her.

Bracing himself over her, Peter rests his forearms on either side of her head and begins moving faster, and MJ holds onto his forearms for leverage so she can push back against him.

She really likes it when he thrusts in fast and then pulls out slowly, turning the almost-pain into a mind-numbing pleasure. The raw ache between her legs is throbbing uncontrollably now, and MJ startles when she realizes that all that moaning is coming from her.

Biting down on her lip until it almost hurts, she glances up and catches Peter looking down at her, his eyes soft and pensive.

"I really like you," he breathes out, hovering over her, his eyes darting all over her face intently, dark and hungry. Her heart might float right out of her chest if it wasn't beating so hard.

"I really like you, too," MJ gasps back, breathing fast. She really does, and not just because he's making her body feel like it's exploding with fireworks all over.

 _"I'm so glad you and Peter are friends,"_ Aunt Anna's voice echoes in her head, uninvited, and MJ tries to tune it out. _"May's nephew is the nicest boy…"_

"You like how my cock feels inside you?" asks Peter, still pumping into her hard, sweaty and determined. "Tell me, MJ. Is this what you want? You like this? You want more?"

Nodding her head wildly, MJ doesn't trust herself to speak. If she stops to think at all, her nerves might finally catch up with her, so she just keeps going and keeps rolling her hips to meet his thrusts. Another deep moan escapes her mouth, but afraid someone might hear through the walls, MJ tries to keep quiet and buries her face into a pillow.

She's just having sex. People do it all the time, from celebrities to geeks—

_"I'd hardly call Peter Parker a geek, Michelle. He's a quiet, sensitive boy…"_

"I could spend forever between your legs, MJ," Peter pants, adjusting his grip on her thighs. "I'd make it worth it for you. I’d do anything for you..."

Gazing at him from beneath heavy lidded eyes, MJ's focus drifts down to where they're joined, then his hands holding her legs open, to his flexed forearms and the sheen of sweat all over his muscles. She wonders how strong he really is and how much he's holding back—if he's Spider-Man, that is.

He keeps moving in and out of her until she cries out, and a ragged moan escapes her throat when she can't take any more.

MJ knows she isn't going to come; she didn't expect to during her first time, but her legs are shaking anyway. Wrapping her arms around his neck, MJ tells him he can stop holding back for her, that he can let go and use her until he comes.

She doesn't know where that dirty talk is coming from, but she likes the reaction it gets out of him. Peter nuzzles his sweaty face into her neck and does as she says, thrusting faster and more desperately than before as he holds her down.

A building pressure fills her entire body, and she can't hold it in anymore.

Looking into her eyes, Peter pants her name desperately, finally rasping out, "MJ, I'm—I'm—"

"Spider-Man!" she blurts out, feeling him swell inside her.

"What?!" he chokes out, hips jerking against her.

"You're Spider-Man, I know you're Spider-Man!" she gasps, her fingers digging into his back as the truth comes tumbling out of her mouth.

She feels his entire body tense up, then with a great shudder, Peter groans loudly and collapses on top of her.

"I'm… I'm not Spider-Man at all," he gasps, gazing down at MJ.

For someone who lies so much, Peter was terrible at it. Deplorably bad, even—almost enough to elicit pity from her. Almost.

"Are you really going to lie to my face while you're still inside me?" MJ says breathlessly, squeezing her legs around him. "Because if you're not Spider-Man, then you must be a male escort."

"What? No! But why would you think that?"

"Those ridiculously chiseled abs, your weird work schedule, when you show up with your clothes buttoned up wrong, and that performance just now. It's kinda obvious."

"I'm not a male escort, MJ!"

"Okay, then you're Spider-Man," she concludes, raising her hands up like it is obvious. "Case closed."

Peter groans, pulling out and rolling off of MJ before lying down beside her. He turns his head to look at her and sighs heavily. "Okay, yeah. I am Spider-Man."

"Are you serious? You're not messing with me?" she asks, exhaling loudly, her lungs feeling full of vindication. "I knew it. I can't believe I figured it out!"

They lie there in silence for a moment, the sweat on their bodies cooling rapidly into clamminess.

Turning to sit up on her side, MJ smirks. "So I just got devirginized by the one and only amazing Spider-Man. I should get that on a t-shirt or something."

Peter's already-flushed face goes completely red. "But Spider-Man's not—he's not about that stuff! Spider-Man is wholesome and nice, he's family friendly!"

"Whatever you say," she replies, stretching her arms above her head. "Just remember that the next time Spidey's crawling through my window, ready to pounce on a defenseless teenage girl—"

"I came through the door!" he protests, running his fingers through his sweaty hair, making it stick up funny.

"And then I asked you to fuck me," she adds, watching the way Peter's eyes follow the lines of her body as she stretches and arches her back. "A full service Spider-boyfriend, how lucky can a girl get?"

His eyes light up. "Boyfriend?"

MJ shrugs, unable to suppress the grin taking over her face. "Yeah, you know, only if you want to be."

"I do," Peter says quickly, tilting MJ's chin toward him for a kiss. "I really do."

She parts her lips and kisses him back, his touch still lingering all over her body, deep in her skin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was actually the original one-shot that expanded into a multi-chapter, so yay! We're finally here!
> 
> More of an epilogue, hope you enjoy!

Peter feels invincible, like absolutely nothing can stop him. 

Not the stupid pumpkin bombs Green Goblin is chucking at his face, or even the haphazard peals of friendly fire from the NYPD down below—nothing can ruin his day, as long as he gets to see her.

He hasn't felt like this since he first got bitten by the spider, except this time, he only feels the excitement and surge of power with none of the pain and confusion. That’s what being with MJ is like, and just knowing that he’ll get to see her later buoys his spirits long enough for him to web up the Goblin’s glider and send the supervillain crashing into the East River.

Was it thanks to dumb luck that they met at that party? Or were they always destined to meet, with their own aunts acting as the hands of fate pushing their paths to cross each other? 

Peter supposes it doesn't really matter either way, as long as they're together now. Besides, MJ would probably scoff at the idea of destiny, and quantum physics says nothing is predetermined anyway. But there’s a certain comfort in believing that he’d always find his way to her eventually, no matter what happens.

Sometimes he’ll swing by her dorm room after patrol, and if her roommate isn't in, MJ will leave the window open a crack for him. They never have much time, but if he can steal a moment with her—and maybe a kiss or two—his day is suddenly brighter, and Peter feels like he can conquer anything.

"Someone might see you," MJ scolds, but reaches out anyway to tug him through her window. "Why don't you come upstairs the regular way like a normal person?"

"Not enough time,” he says, pulling off his mask. “I've still gotta go back and finish my lab report—"

"You mean start it?"

"Okay, yeah, I still have to start it," he sighs. "But I wanted to see you, even just for a second. How about tomorrow night to hang out?"

“Can't, I've got rehearsal until late,” says MJ, running her fingers over the webbing pattern on his suit. 

She's in a student production of A Raisin in the Sun, and they're down to the last week of rehearsals before the first show, leaving MJ with little to no free time. “Then I’ve got the actual show Thursday through Saturday night, and the wrap party after that, which you should come to. Y’know, only if you want to. No big deal if you’re busy—”

“I’ll be there,” says Peter, and her little side smile makes him feel like he’s floating in the air. 

He can't wait to see her onstage, even though she keeps insisting that he should keep his expectations low. She claims that she's only doing this to get the ESU drama club to showcase more playwrights who aren't old white men, but he sees the way MJ comes alive even when she’s just running lines by herself. 

The way that she can step into a different persona and embody it like a second skin, as easily as Peter can put on his mask and become Spider-Man, reminds him he doesn't have to hide himself with her, not anymore, and he feels lighter than he can ever remember being. 

He winds his arms around MJ's waist and pulls her close, kissing her softly on the lips. She loops her arms around his neck and kisses him back, smiling against his mouth. "What happened to not having enough time?"

"I'll always have time for this," Peter grins, going in for another kiss.

===

"Come on, tiger, anything you want," says MJ swinging her leg around to straddle Peter on his bed, their textbooks still unopened and scattered on the floor. 

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"Okay, um, talk sexy to me," says Peter, his cheeks turning pink. He feels her legs squeeze against the sides of his torso as she leans down.

"Alright, sexy talk. You know that spacetime tells matter how to move," she starts in a sultry voice, rocking herself against him and wriggling her hips, "and matter tells spacetime how to... curve." At this, she grabs his hands to cup them around her breasts over her shirt. 

"Mmm… how'd you know that general relativity turns me on?" asks Peter, grinning as he rubs his thumbs against the peak of her breasts, feeling her react under his touch.

"Easy, because you're the biggest nerd I know," MJ replies huskily, rolling her hips against the hardening strain in his pants. 

"Biggest, huh?"

Reaching between her legs to rub Peter over his pants, MJ squeezes him over the fabric, eliciting an urgent groan from him. 

Without taking her eyes off him, MJ slowly unbuttons her shirt and lets it fall over her shoulders, followed by her bra dropping to the floor. Peter's gaze follows the elegant lines of her neck, sweeping down to her collarbones and shoulders, and his breath hitches at the sight of her bare breasts.

"Condom?" she asks, playing with the straps of her underwear. Knowing he won't be able to last if she keeps that up, Peter takes her by the wrists and pulls her close.

As if on cue, the police scanner app on his phone crackles with a report of an armed robbery on the west side. He tries to ignore it, reminding himself that a few minutes won't make a difference.

Except even a single second could make all the difference for someone if Spider-Man doesn't get there in time.

Swallowing thickly, he tries to ignore the alert again, but eventually says, "MJ, I'm really sorry but I've gotta—"

She sighs and sits up, climbing off of him. "Right. Duty calls." 

The look of disappointment and resignation on her face makes Peter's stomach drop.

"Come on, MJ. I don't _want_ to leave—'

"Just go, Peter," she mutters, putting her shirt back on. "I don't even know why I still get surprised... just another date shot to pieces."

He knows why she's annoyed. He's annoyed, too—horny, frustrated, and annoyed. 

They haven’t had sex again since their first time, and Peter hopes it isn’t because his fumbled climax ruined the experience for her. The thing is, he’s certain he can make it better for her next time, and even better the time after that—if he ever gets the chance. 

This was the only hour alone together that they could squeeze into their busy week, and now Peter has to suit up and ruin it.

"I'm sorry, MJ—"

"This is starting to become a very irritating habit, Spidey," she says, cutting him off. Her face is scrunched up with annoyance, but her dark brown eyes are soft as she peers at him. "But I get it. I wish I didn't have to share you with the rest of New York, but I get it. Just come back in one piece, okay?"

Peter's face twists into a rueful smile. "Don't think I can't promise that one, and I don't want to lie to you. Not anymore."

With a deep sigh, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. "Then just come back to me, okay?"

He nods, planting one last kiss on her lips. 

===

Peter and MJ finally find another evening when they're both free, except they have nowhere private to spend it. MJ's roommate canceled her trip out of town at the last minute, and his own roommate wants to bring a Tinder date over. 

"Be reasonable, man!” exclaims Harry. “Look, you're in a committed relationship now, so you've got pussy on tap for whenever. What about the rest of us, scraping by with these godforsaken apps?"

"Ugh. Come on, dude!” says Peter, throwing his hands in the air. “You're seriously not going over to your date's place because it's a walk-up building?"

"Sixth floor walk-up! I gotta save my cardio for the rest of the night, you know?"

Peter lets out an exasperated growl. "MJ's gonna kill me—"

"I'll make it up to you, Pete! You can totally use my dad’s Southampton house for a romantic getaway—”

“MJ would hate that.”

Harry sighs dramatically. "You are killing me here, Parker. Literally killing me—"

"That's not what literally means, Harry—"

"Literally killing me!"

In the end, Peter gives into Harry’s pleas and finds himself riding on a subway train into Queens with MJ. Aunt May is working late at the hospital tonight, so he seizes what might be his only chance to get some time alone with MJ. 

Stumbling into the dark apartment, neither of them waste any time in taking each other’s clothes off and falling onto the couch in a tangle of limbs.

“Ouch, my arm’s caught,” MJ snorts, holding Peter down with her legs as she wriggles out of the last bits of her clothing. 

With some determined maneuvering, they figure out that the best position to do it quickly and quietly is with MJ on all fours and Peter taking her from behind.

Lining himself against her, Peter takes a moment to appreciate the view of his girlfriend on her hands and knees before him.

"We have to be fast," he reminds her.

"Hard and fast, got it," she smirks over her shoulder, arching her back.

Following her signal, Peter's hand sweeps down her back and smacks her on the butt cheek playfully. She yelps in surprise, and Peter shushes her, which gets a rise out of her.

"You shush! I don't have a spider tingle to warn me when my boyfriend's about to spank me."

His breath hitches at the idea, and he has to shake the thought from his mind.

Holding onto MJ's hips, Peter pushes into her slowly, savoring her intense warmth that envelopes him, and looks down to watch himself disappearing into her and then reappear, slick, wet, and throbbing with an aching need for release.

He keeps pumping away at her, lost in how hot and tight she feels around him, their sticky skin sliding against each other. 

This isn't quite the slow, sweet second time he was hoping to give her, but MJ doesn't seem to care. She moans loudly, uninhibited, letting all of her pent up frustration out in obscene throaty cries.

"MJ!" Peter whispers loudly, face beet red. "I think you're being loud on purpose."

"It's your fault," she moans between thrusts, voice getting hoarse. "You're the one fucking me..."

He can't argue with that, but he does slow down and begin pushing into her only halfway, and then dragging out before she can try to pull him in deeper.

"If you can't keep quiet, then we can't keep playing," Peter bluffs. "My aunt has neighbors."

"Ugh, fine, dork. I'll keep it down," she says, looking back over her shoulder. "If you stop teasing."

With a wink, Peter picks up his pace again, building back up to the savage pace that she wants from him. He snakes a hand around to touch her while he keeps thrusting, keeping her steady and supported in his hold. 

Burying her face into the cushions of the couch, MJ lets out a muffled cry.

"Fuck, I'm close," she manages to gasp. 

Her body starts to shake and clench around him, so Peter focuses the last bits of his willpower into holding on until MJ finishes. But the way she's writhing and thrashing is making it impossible, and he has to distract himself or he won't last. 

He tries to think of the history paper that he still has to finish, Tombstone’s ugly face, the feeling of getting stitches...

His ears pick up on the distant sound of footsteps, but he breathes out in relief when the steps trail away down the hall to another apartment. 

Just a little longer until she's there, and then he can let go… god, she feels so good... The pressure is building up, deep in his groin.

The sound of keys jingling and the front door rattling open jolts Peter out of his trance, but he's too late to stop the door from swinging open.

"What the fu—!"

"Shit, shit, shit" Peter gasps, bringing his thrusts to a complete standstill. But MJ, too preoccupied with chasing her release to notice, keeps grinding and pushing back against him.

"Fuck, Peter! You're making me come!" MJ wails, bucking against him wildly as she peaks. He can feel her all around him, her muscles spasming in waves and wrenching his own orgasm out of him. 

Standing in the doorway with her keys and purse forgotten on the floor, his aunt May has her hands over her mouth. Her eyes bug out, and when she makes sense of what she's seeing, quickly covers her eyes, too.

With an uncontrollable groan, Peter spills himself into the condom and collapses onto MJ just as the door to May's room slams shut.

===

“Don’t say it,” Peter pleads. "Please, just—"

“I told you so!” May says anyway, clasping her hands together on her lap. 

"May!"

Peter covers his face in both palms while his aunt holds her hands up appeasingly, shaking her head. "I'm just saying, it looked like you two were... enjoying each other's company quite a bit, and I can't help but wonder if you had just listened to me earlier—"

"Oh my god, May!" He can feel the flush on his face burn even brighter. "Can we just never talk about this ever again?"

"Fine, honey. But what was that thing you said about blind dates?" she asks, tapping her finger against her chin. "Oh, right, that's what it was. _'The odds are so stacked against you, you're nuts if you expect to ever hit the jackpot'_?"

"Which is still true!" Peter interjects. "I never said it's impossible to hit the jackpot. Statistically there's a non-zero chance, it just happens to be one in a million—"

"Just like you thought the odds would be that I'd switch my shifts around tonight and come home early?" 

Peter gives her the courtesy of looking abashed and scratches the back of his head. "Yeah, I guess I didn't really think that one through."

"In any case, Mr. Brainiac, maybe you'll take my advice at face value next time," says May, peering at him through her glasses with lifted eyebrows. "What'd I tell you about not overthinking things and getting out of your own head?"

"Oh trust me, I'm not thinking anything when there's head involved—"

May's jaw drops. "Peter!"

Peter finds some satisfaction in his aunt's scandalized expression, and presses on, "You did tell me to show MJ a good time—"

"Okay, buster! You win!" says May, throwing her hands in the air as she stands up. "We will never mention this ever again, assuming you can manage to keep it rated PG in the future—" 

MJ knocks on the doorframe before stepping into the living room to join them, freshly showered with her hair wrapped and wearing an old shirt of Peter's and basketball shorts that rise over her knees. 

"Uh, hey," she murmurs, arms crossed and cradling her elbows.

"Hi, honey," May greets her warmly. "It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you—not from this wiseguy, mind you, but from Anna."

"Same," MJ replies, chewing her lip. "And sorry for, um, defiling your nephew or whatever."

Throwing her head back, May laughs and waves her off. "You two are both adults. As long as you're being safe and respectful, and always communicating and checking in with each other—"

"May, please…" says Peter, glancing at his aunt and praying that she stops talking.

"I know we've had the safe sex talk before, but we never got around to the 'it's a marathon, not a sprint' talk," May continues. Seeing the mortified but confused look on Peter's face, she squints at him and adds, "I mean foreplay, sweetie."

"May!" Peter whines, giving her a pleading you're-embarrassing-me look. 

"Okay, okay! But no more surprise rendezvous at my place without giving me a heads up, alright? Both of you? For the sake of this old lady's heart."

"Yes, ma'am," says MJ, nodding calmly. 

But Peter notices the subtle flare of her nostrils and the way she's wringing her fingers behind her back as she listens to May recount the first time she snuck a boy over to her house—MJ is nervous, he realizes.

"Close your ears, Peter, it wasn't Ben! His name was Johnny Jerome, my first boyfriend, typical bad boy type..." May reminisces. 

MJ nods along to May's story as Peter focuses on suppressing his mortifying experience tonight into the furthest depths of his memory.

Smirking at MJ, he nudges her shoulder when May turns to leave and head to the kitchen. "Are you scared of my aunt?" 

"Pfft, I'm not scared of her," MJ snorts, snuggling into him. "It's worse—I care about her opinion of me. Ugh." 

"I think she likes you a lot."

"Duh, of course she does. I'm a fucking delight," MJ deadpans, and Peter can't help thinking about how much he really, really likes her.

Leaning in close, he tilts her face towards him by the chin and kisses her on the lips, letting his thumb trace her jawline. Closing her eyes, MJ parts her lips and deepens their kiss, sending a warm rush through his body.

"Aunt approaching alert!" May cries out from the kitchen as she comes closer to the door. “Shout if you’re decent! Or not decent!”

MJ jumps back a foot from Peter and crosses her arms across her chest. "You can come in, we're not doing anything."

"Oh my god, you are scared of May!"

"I’m not scared! Just… shut up,” MJ hisses at him under her breath.

"You two might as well stay for dinner," says May. “I’m making super lasagna!”

"Sounds good, May," MJ says immediately, flashing her a wide closed-lip smile.

As soon as May gives them a thumbs up and ducks her head back out, Peter starts laughing, earning an elbow to the chest. “Ow! MJ! Trust me, you do not want her ‘super’ lasagna, that’s May-code for leftovers hidden between pasta sheets—”

“That lady saw me kneeling on all fours with my boobs and my hoo-ha hanging out _in her house_ ,” MJ hisses. “I’m eating her fucking lasagna, even if it’s got drywall in it.”

“It just might,” Peter warns, chuckling when she nudges him with her elbow.

May pokes her head back in the doorway, pointing to the cellphone in her hand and smiling broadly.

"Anna! I'm so glad you called! You will not _believe_ who I stumbled into today," she exclaims, looking pointedly at Peter and MJ.

"Oh my god," MJ says under her breath, her eyes wide. “She’s not gonna rat me out is she?”

“May? Nah, she’s cool,” Peter assures her, though he isn't entirely sure himself.

He glances at MJ, who is still listening intently to May's half of her phone call with her aunt, and flashes her a conspiratorial grin. She narrows her eyes back at him, but takes Peter’s offered hand anyway and laces her fingers through his.

"Mmhm, I think the kids are getting along _just fine_ " May's voice travels from the other room, her volume obviously raised for Peter and MJ's benefit. With a loud laugh, she adds, "Don't think we need to try to set them up on any more playdates, though."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Find me on the [Tumblr @machiavelien](https://machiavelien.tumblr.com/) :3


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